The Perks of Being a Castaway
by simplysubtle
Summary: Nobody knows the real reason of why Italy loved being stranded. Nobody except Italy himself, and... her. / Italy x Seychelles, maybe more pairings. T because it's Hetalia.
1. Prologue

**Hello! I absolutely love Hetalia and Seychelles and things like that, so this came out of the blue earlier today... and I just had to write it.**

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All of the nations had always wondered the same thing; why Italy Veneziano loved getting stranded so much.

When questioned, the childish country would reply in the same way each time; with a shrug of the shoulders and a delirious smile on his unblemished features, he would grin widely and say "Pasta-!" in an upbeat voice. Every time he would paint on that face, effortlessly wiping any signs of being all-there off of his face, when in reality he was thinking of..._ her._

_He remembered the first time he'd awoken on that island, confused, sleepy, without the will to understand what was going on. He'd sat up, looked around, and a smile spread across his face as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying. His pants flew off to reveal bright yellow boxers, and he'd screamed in delight while running towards the shimmering blue water. The liquid sloshed onto his bare legs as the boy squinted into the sunlight, a hand shading his face as he grinned, and began to march back to shore, thinking of just how much fun he and Germany would have on this adventure._

_And then he'd heard it, as he walked around to the other side of the island._

_A girl's voice hummed harmoniously in time with the waves sloshing against the sand, a repetitious tune, but a lovely one. She knelt in the sand, both hands plunged in the water, snatching fish with her bare fingers and putting them into a basket as they flopped and wiggled unsuccessfully. The tanned boy hung back in the shade of the palm trees and various bushes, entranced by the sight of the girl. His mouth hung slightly open at the scene, but no words came out, surprisingly. He admonished himself quickly for not saying a word, and with shaking legs - nerves, perhaps? - he moved forward and said, _

_"C-ciao...?" the word was so quiet and unsteady he himself barely heard it. The girl jerked up from the water upon hearing the noise, twisting around and knocking the basket of fish into the waves as she scrambled backwards into the tide, her chocolate-colored eyes wide open in an expression of mixed confusion and surprise. Her dark brown hair swung around in their pigtails as she turned, forming a curtain over the sides of her darkly tanned face. Not a sound came from either boy or girl at that point; the only thing they could hear was the waves._

_The girl carefully stood up in the glistening water, and Italy's eyes widened as he stared at her. She stared back at him, and he felt his legs shift in front of each other as he began to walk, slowly, towards her. She didn't twitch or begin to run, just stood there, in a polished sky-blue bikini with a bit of fluttery fabric tied at her hip. _

_Then, her voice broke the silence, so quiet and lyrical Veneziano came crashing down to earth with realization as the words left her mouth. "There," she whispered, pointing behind him, and the boy made the mistake of looking back as a harsh, accented voice cut through the silence. "ITALY! There you are! What are you standing there for-? We need to find Japan!"_

_With a turn and a single blink, the boy stood there staring at where the girl had once been, now vacant, excepting one thing- _

_A small, braided bracelet, laying half-buried in the sand. _

_The boy leaned down and reached for it, securing it in his palm, and turned back to the German man as he waved his arms frantically and sound spilled out of his mouth while he ran for the stronger of the two. "GERMANY! I woke up on this beach and I didn't know what to do so I started running and swimming and doing fun things! Do you have anything to make pasta with? I'm SO hungry!" He screeched, but for once, he felt a hint of regret running through his veins as he hugged Germany tightly. _

_While, in his tightened fist, the bracelet lay, foretelling a tidal wave of events to come._

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**Sorry it's so short... :3**

**What do you think? Constructive criticism welcome, I implore you to help me perfect my writing skill! Though, nobody's perfect...**


	2. Chapter 1

**I'm back! With another chapter!**

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"America, that's a _horrible _idea, you git!"

"A-ha-ha, have fun getting yourself melted down with acid, da?"

"Why not try to 'inspire' them? Ohohon..."

The various jeers cut across the room and over Italy's head as he doodled on an official-looking document in front of him. He and the other countries had been in this World Meeting for over four hours now, and he was quite frankly bored, as well as ravenously hungry. He couldn't even remember the reason why they had brought these people together, other than something about America trying to reach out to a warring country... and everyone opposed him.

America's signature laugh hit the air like nails on a chalkboard, and Italy flinched. "Come _on, _guys! Freedom Girl is an amazing idea, you'll all see! We'll fly her over to that poor country and have her set things right!" England glared across the table at France as the posh man shrugged and said, "I'm sure it would be... ah... amazing, non? But how would one find such a girl?" a perverted smirk danced across his face for a second before Germany hit the man on the back of the head.

"That's _easy, _we'll just get China to do some of his fancy-shmancy techno stuff, and..." the hyperactive man's words became a buzz in Italy's ears once again as he blocked him out and began to draw again. He scratched his pen absentmindedly across the stationary as he thought about going back to his homeland and eating some pasta. Or maybe some pizza? Romano had been trying to get him to eat pizza with extra tomatoes, so maybe today he could get a free meal...

"F-fine! What does Italy have to say on the subject?!" a groan was heard throughout the room as all heads turned to the Italian, and he looked up from his paper with a blank expression. He opened his mouth, and out came the words that annoyed everyone in the room.

"I think we should give them all some _pasta!" _he yelled, standing up and grinning like a fool.

"...You just had to ask him, didn't you...?" sighed China as he leaned back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. Italy's face dropped and he sat back down again, upset. "You guys _never _ask my opinion!" he said loudly, grabbing up his pen again and beginning to sketch furiously. "Everyone always makes me sit back and listen and never do anything and-" Germany's hand came over the rambling man's mouth, as he continued to freak out.

"Okay! I know what we'll do, then!" America grinned, jumping up and clapping his hands together excitedly. Italy looked up, finally paying attention to the man's words. All of the other nations looked bored and miserable once again, assuming he would say something about being the hero or maybe about sending some sort of impossible technology to the endangered country.

"We'll send Italy to try and make peace with them! This is your time to shine, big guy-" America sprinted to the man and clapped him on the back, earning a broad smile from Veneziano. "-So don't blow it!"

"Al-_riiight! _Where am I going?! Who do I get to make peace with? Do they like pasta? Pasta makes peace!" he shrieked happily, practically jumping up and down at this point. America seemed to reconsider his decision for a moment, then announced proudly -

"You're going to Seychelles!"

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**Sorry it's so short... I really struggled with this chapter, trying to make everything fit in, but I just wanted to jump right forward into the story, but I couldn't... yeah. Hope you enjoyed!**


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